


Love is a...

by hellomrschorusgirl



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 05:31:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16907031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellomrschorusgirl/pseuds/hellomrschorusgirl
Summary: As negotiator for the NYPD, you and Steve Rogers meet during a raid in Brooklyn. It’s love at first sight, but 4 years later your powers put your marriage at risk. Will it be Steve or Bucky to save you from the darkness?





	1. Love is a stranger

FUTURE

“Where do you know her from?”

“Steampunk community, Lexa Stahl is a respectable member.”

“Steampunk?” Bucky inquires, brows knitted together in confusion.

“It’s a subgenre of science fiction or science fantasy that incorporates technology and aesthetic designs inspired by 19th-century industrial steam-powered machinery,” you reply pragmatically, your photographic memory allowing you to recite the information from Wikipedia by heart.

“Which is why I asked you to tag along with me. You’ll blend in perfectly, given a little upgrade of that metal arm of yours which by the way seems to have worked out pretty well.”

You nod towards his left arm, coated in metallic bronze spray-paint and adorned with some Victorian designs, post-apocalyptic influences such as a compass to hide the red star underneath and various tribal prints to cover up the shifting of metal plates whenever Bucky moves his arm.

Pushing his long, brown locks back with a pair of vintage goggles, he adjusts his outfit one last time before handing you the timepieces you had given him earlier for safekeeping.

“What are these for exactly?,” he asks, holding out his hand for you to pick one of two tiny golden pocket watches.

“Sentimental value,” you reply dryly, not wanting to indulge in the subject any further.

Bucky watches you intently as you take the smallest into the palm of your hand.

“Minerva,” he mutters upon seeing the small letters engraved on the back of the clockwork. “What does it mean?”

You sigh softly and quietly, looking back at him with an annoyed look etched on your face.

“You are full of questions, Barnes. Better keep your mouth shut once we get in. Minerva is the Greek goddess of wisdom and arts, trade and tragedy. But I’ll tell you all about it afterwards,” you promise, the fabrication of a white lie coming across as far too natural for your liking. When did you become this good a liar?

His facial features darken and you know he just caught you on it.

“Let’s go,” you say to him as you start walking towards the entrance of the mansion where the festivities of the evening are taking place. One final glance you throw in his direction to make sure he’s following which he seems to do quite reluctantly, dragging his feet along the freshly mowed grass like a child being forced to attend school on a Monday morning.

“She better be worth it,” he mumbles to himself as you show your invitation to the guard at the door. He’s sturdy but has soft hands instead of calloused ones like Bucky. He notices your surprise, your kind smile giving you away and he shoots you a small smirk before speaking.

“Miss Y/L/N, your presence is required in the private quarters of miss Stahl. She’s been expecting your arrival, as that of your companion.”

He nods at Bucky whose head snaps up at his words. She isn’t supposed to be aware of his attendance, otherwise what’s the point of going undercover? It seems as if Y/N has been right all along, nothing escapes the all-seeing eyes of Lexa Stahl.

“Thanks,” he scoffs but the man gives no notice to his spiteful reply.

A petite young woman makes her way through the crowd towards Y/N and Bucky, wearing a brown leather crop top and shorts, her knee-high laced-up boots clicking against the marble floor as she walks over to Y/N and pulls her into tight hug. Her short black curls are pulled back with what looks like at least one jar of hair gel and half a dozen clippers.

Although she has a round and an albeit inviting facial structure, her resting bitch face diminishes all chances of a favourable first impression. This woman is someone to handle with care, if not to stay out of her way altogether. Her sentences are tied together by an unmistakable German accent, some words more rough around the edges than others.

This must be Lexa.

“I can sense why you have come here to see me tonight. I wasn’t sure when I send out the invitation if you would ever receive it, but I’m glad you decided to grace us with your presence tonight. Let me guide you to my office although I must ask the gentleman to keep his distance, I don’t like him very much.”

Her voice is stern yet playful and Bucky takes no offense to her words, only slightly uncomfortable by her blunt honesty and overwhelming perfume that reminds him more of wet dog than daisies.

Lexa’s determined gait picks up a notch as she pushes through a pool of dancing and sweating bodies. When the three of them walk past a young couple, the female stomps Bucky in his side when the male spins her around to the beat of a song he does not recognise. He apologises quickly, trying not to lose track of you and your so-called friend.

“Y/N,” he speaks quickly, looking everywhere but nowhere in particular when he notices he can’t locate you.

“Behind you,” a curt voice calls out, one he recognises as Lexa’s.

“Better keep up with us girls, mister, or you will never find out why she brought you here.”

Her voice is light, soaring between Bucky’s lips and hers, but there’s an unmistakable tinge of irritation to them.

“Old dog, new tricks,” she whispers, aware that Bucky is right behind her and will be able to hear every word loud and clear.

He follows her to a backroom where Y/N is waiting for him, already seated in a traditional-looking velvet chair, one that could easily belong to his grandmother if she were still alive. Lexa motions for Bucky to sit next to Y/N before taking a seat behind her desk, folding her perfectly manicured hands in front of her.

“Long time no see. Rumour has it you’re screwing none other than Captain America. On that note, that’s quite the predicament you have there, Y/N.”

Bucky has no clue what Lexa is talking about yet Y/N seems to have a pretty good idea. She’s fidgeting with the hemline of her dress, eyes clouded by a mysterious emotion Bucky has never seen on Y/N before and it frightens him. It vaguely reminds him of the expression she wore upon taking Sam out during training, victory mixed with a hint of aversion. Despite having declared she is “more fat than muscle”, Y/N has a couple of sly tricks up her sleeve that she picked up during her crash course police training. Although technically she’s still a civilian, Steve had insisted he’d train her himself, upgrade her self-defence skills rather than prepare her for the field like he would do with any other regular agent. She had apparently been practicing her stealth skills after hours and, as Bucky must admit, with result.

He clears his throat, eyes locked on Y/N’s when he asks Lexa to quit the charade and speak plainly.

“You might make a bold entrance, this drama is way out of your league, boy. But if you must know, I am a visionary. I prefer this term rather than the ancient Greek one. Let’s be clear about one thing, I am not an oracle, that’s not how I work.”

“You put up a good show, doll, but you haven’t been able to convince me with all your tricks.”

Y/N scoots closer to Bucky, putting her hand to rest on his flesh one to stop him from spewing more insults. If she hadn’t done so, he would’ve hauled Y/N out without giving Lexa the curtesy of a final look in her direction. He doesn’t trust her. Not one fucking bit.

“I am not a trickster but Y/N is. The poor man doesn’t know, does he?”

Bucky sends you a bewildered look. “What is she talking about?”

Y/N lowers her gaze, dreading this moment ever since she asked him to accompany her. She needs answers and she needs them fast. The only person she has ever trusted with the truth has been Lexa but unfortunately Lexa isn’t the nicest person on the planet. Both one to hold grudges, Y/N has always been one to forgive but never forget whereas Lexa never forgives and certainly never forgets.

“Minerva. It’s an organisation built on a sworn oath, a pledge made between a group of dark bloods and others, like Lexa, who are familiar with the trade. They’re hunting me down because I did something I shouldn’t have and they’ll persecute me as soon as they get their hands on me.”

You swallow thickly, nerves building up in the pit of your stomach. Luckily Lexa picked up on your discomfort and continued the story for you, albeit unwillingly.

“Dark blood is a very valuable product. Especially when it is used to inspire strife. They live for disorder, pandemonium their ultimate goal, their highest purpose. You see, they cling to their faith in a way Y/N and I never could. I paid them a great deal of money in exchange for my freedom. But Y/N, Y/N didn’t get so lucky. She never came from money although she does have very special abilities, powers they want to use for their greater good. So Y/N stays stuck.”

She talks without emotion, without any expression revealing what’s going on behind that beautiful façade she’s put up for herself. Lexa’s voice is sickly sweet as she speaks about Y/N in an utterly condescending and malicious way.

Y/N’s grip on Bucky’s hand tightens, her knuckles turning white as her nails dig their way into his flesh. She’s unaware of the tension she exhibits until Bucky takes her hand into his, the cold metal returning Y/N to reality. Her jaw is visibly clenched and she has chewed on her lower lip, drawing blood in both frustration and frightful anticipation for the next series of Lexa’s snarky comments.

It is then that the conversation takes a 180° turn when Lexa administers the final blow, her cherry lips pursed in an artificial gesture made to only annoy the suffering woman on the receiving end of her dispute. Bucky has no idea where the sudden hostility comes from as merely seconds ago the two of them seemed to be ecstatic with their renewed friendship.

“Of course you can do as you please, but now that you’re pregnant with Steve Rogers’ child, I reckon you have more pressing matters on your mind. For instance, how are you going to break the news to your beloved Steve now you are no longer together? Or maybe more importantly, doesn’t your little relapse call for more extreme measures regarding your safety and that of your child? Because your team of pathetic misfits isn’t going to keep them at bay. You do remember the information I trusted you with upon my departure?”

Y/N nods nervously, her usually confident and sassy character suddenly evaporating into thin air when realisation finally hits her. She is so pale, a shroud of sadness falling over her mesmerizing eyes, now dull in the faint light of impending anarchy long promised.

“The father of your firstborn child shall meet his end after the bet has been made and the money has been spend,” she recites spiritedly, as if a prediction of someone’s death is something to be taken lightly.

“Captain America will give his life in exchange for yours. That is how it must be, that is what the fates have decided. And there’s absolutely nothing you can do about it, dear Y/N. I am only the messenger yet I have seen what awaits you.”

“And what might that be?” Bucky snarls as he picks up a catatonic Y/N and carries her bridal-style, not allowing his eyes to wander away from her sullen state.

“True tragedy, my friend. True fucking tragedy,” she answers triumphantly before he knocks down her door and leaves the premises, the woman he loves like a ragdoll in his arms, the echoes of Lexa’s malevolent laughter resonating in his ears.


	2. Love is a mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You collect your stuff from the tower. Bucky wants to be your one and only.

PRESENT DAY

“What are you doing here so late, doll? Are you moving back in? Taking up residence in your old room at the Tower again?,” Sam inquires tentatively, trying not to get his hopes up about you and Steve getting back together.

He knows it’s probably a long shot given what has transpired between you two, but he can’t help but root for the power couple to find each other again in their conjoint misery. This is just a rough patch you’re going through, you’ll come to your senses soon enough, he tells himself. Y/N can’t live without Steve, and Steve can’t live another day without Y/N.

“No, Sam, I just came to collect some stuff I left here,” you answer honestly, Tony’s new carpet sucking all your attention away from his prying eyes.

Of course Sam’s still up, the bastard hardly ever sleeps. You scold yourself for your gross miscalculations concerning the team’s sleeping habits or rather lack thereof. You decide you have no other option than to face him anyway. There’s no running from your best friend, especially when he has a nice pair of fancy falcon wings – in shiny red nonetheless. You fight crime everyday with your father’s old service gun and a pair of uncomfortable yet classy high heels, a part of your tactical approach to be considered more as a female instead of just one of the boys.

“You’re not wearing your glasses.” He points towards your face, naked without the familiar black-and-white frames gracing your features.

“I broke them by accident, I didn’t watch my step. We had an argument, I was just being a little clumsy again.”

He sighs exasperatingly. “This time, did you say something you actually meant? Or was it another series of empty threats?”

“Don’t you start,” you snap at him, eyes glowing bright with the wrath of a fury.

It’s old news that you and Steve have been quarrelling all day long for a week straight now, although you both try your best to avoid any sign of conflict at any given moment. It just doesn’t work out. Somehow someone always does something, no matter how trivial it might seem, that sets off the fire alarm.

“Don’t be so hard on the girl, Sam. She can’t exactly help it.”

Wanda has appeared by your side, hugging you tenderly yet cautiously taking notice of your reluctance, the smallest act of defiance on your part. You flinch at the bodily contact and she gives you a sympathetic smile. She must’ve noticed the slight purple bruising on your wrist, a remnant of an earlier fall-out with Steve and an unfortunate encounter with Bucky’s metal arm, that left you jumpy and on high alert the entire time.

“Thanks, Wanda.”

“Anytime, dear.”

She fumbles with the plastic bags you dropped off on one of the chairs, inspecting it with an intrigued gaze, wisps of red magic swirling around her as she extracts the boxes filled with sweets and other desserts without so much as lifting a finger herself.

“I was going to leave some chocolate chip cookies on the kitchen counter,” you explain gingerly. “I made a cake, too, in case you’re interested. I can bake you a cherry pie as well, given enough ingredients in the fridge. I’m sure Tony wouldn’t mind me stress baking in his kitchen, he doesn’t get much use out of it anyway.”

“You don’t have to go through so much trouble, Y/N. We’re good on the food department, but we miss you.” Wanda’s kind voice envelopes you with a certain calm and you’re 100% positive she’s probing inside your mind at the same time.

“I miss you guys, too.”

“Hey,” Sam says softly as he reaches out to squeeze your shoulder but you spurt away from him before he can touch anything. It’s a gesture of affection yet you turn it down at once. No physical contact. At least, not yet.

“I’m sorry about…”

“It’s fine. We were a dead end anyway,” you rebuke harshly, not a care in the world that can make you change your mind now. Nevertheless, it gnaws at your conscience. “The hurt is almost gone, Sam. Alright, you know where to find me.”

You scoot off like a cloud towards the sun, leaving a very confused Sam alone with his thoughts. Your jaw is set in determination, intent on turning over a new leaf and never look back. It’s not exactly easy, that ugly and ostentatious building a thorn in your eye because everywhere you casts your eyes, you’re drawn right back to Stark Tower. You just can’t miss it, which is exactly why Tony had it built in the first place, his megalomania on high.

“She slept with Bucky,” Wanda explains compassionately, the words catching Sam by surprise.

“She did what?,” he exclaims in astonishment. “When did that happen?”

“She needed a shoulder to cry on, she’d just broken up with Steve and she was all alone at their apartment. She called Tony first, but he was away on a mission. Nat wasn’t available either, so she scrolled down her contact list until she found the one person she knew she could always rely on. One thing led to another.”

Wanda exhales a shaky breath she’s been holding in since she saw you enter the building. “She’s a broken woman, Sam. You’re not helping her by pushing her away. It doesn’t mean you can’t be best friends anymore, just because she fucked Bucky and fucked up with Steve.”

***

THE NIGHT BEFORE

He’s such a beautiful creature, a cheeky grin silently urging you to lift your gaze to meet his. Your eyes flicker to his lips, his full and soft lips. The corner of your mouth tilts up in a smile, one that does not go unnoticed by him, deep blue eyes watching you lovingly. Glancing up you are intoxicated by his sensual gaze, lips curling in a self-indulgent smirk as with one swift tug at your hair he pulls you flush against his chest. You’re burning up, his tanned skin warm to the touch. His muscles are so smooth, defined with the utmost precision as if chiselled by the hands of Aphrodite herself, for your own personal pleasure.

His hands ascend towards the lace of your underwear, his index finger slipping past the restraints of the flimsy fabric, eyes searching for the answer to an unspoken question. You push the remaining material of his unbuttoned shirt over his shoulders, revealing the scar tissue adorning his left shoulder. With piercing eyes you give your silent permission and his fingers carefully slide your panties down your legs. When they hit the floor, you slowly step out of them.

“I am yours,” you whisper, the tips of your fingers moving dangerously close to the contrast of flesh meeting metal in a final exhale.

He walks you to the edge of the bed and you lean back onto it, falling with a slight ‘oomph’ onto the silk sheets and dark grey cushions. His gaze is studying you, drinking in every curve, every ridge and every valley of your exposed body. You tilt your head when his lips connect to your pulse point, taking a deep breath as he nibbles at that sensitive spot in the nape of your neck. Calloused hands familiarise with your naked skin with meticulous care and the highest accuracy, discovering what places you liked to have touched and which were off-limits.

He laughs slightly as he kisses you affectionately. “I am so in love with you.”

Your desire for his touch intensifies as he smiles warmly at you, kissing you a little more firmly this time round. He pulls down his jeans and boxers, meeting your hands halfway his aching member. He gives you a mysterious look, composed of dilated pupils and hooded eyelids. He is yours for the taking.

“You’re beautiful,” he blushes shyly as he leans in to capture your lips, wasting no time deepening the kiss as the tension inside his chest is building up fast, spreading further down with every waiting minute.

“You locked the door?,” you breathe in between teasingly sweet kisses. He hums against your mouth, confirming he has in fact taken his precautions. You kiss him hard, one hand on the back of his head to keep him close, the other placed gently over his heart.

Your eyes find his strong hips, cut out to perfection, and flicker a little lower still. He watches you diligently, smiling as you motion for him to turn around so you can take a good, long, hard look at his deliciously tight ass. He flexes his muscles for your entertainment because Bucky Barnes is such a tease.

“Why are you the only one that understands me?,” you murmur quietly as you run your fingers along his muscular chest. His eyes are trained on yours, focussing intently on the erratic beating of your heart. You’re nervous, unsure of which step to take next.

Your entire life you’ve only been with one man, that man being Steven Grant Rogers. You don’t know what any other man wants or prefers, solely acquainted with the captain’s sexual quirks and bedside manners. There used to be a time you had him wrapped around your little finger, seducing him with a small whiff of his favourite perfume. It didn’t take much to make America’s golden boy tick and you laugh sorely at the recollection. The only existing relationship Y/N has ever had in her life has now turned into a mere infatuation with a memory, its fondness long abandoned in the darkest corner of your mind.

“I want you to ride me,” Bucky suddenly says, effortlessly lifting you off the bed. You straddle his hips, lips pressed in a heated kiss as hands travel towards the hardness below. Surprised by the sudden contact of the cold metal slapping the left cheek of your ass, you let out a tiny yelp followed by a loud moan when he teasingly coats the tip of his cock with your juices.

“I want to make love to you,” you clarify before aligning him with your soaked entrance. The more territory he gains, the further he travels inside, the more he stretches you out,… it has you begging for him to start moving.

“James, please,” you quietly beg as his adoring eyes lock with yours. He starts thrusting into you without a second thought, following your orders instantly as your soft whimpers he simply cannot resist. He needs to take his time with this, building up a pace yet cautious about speeding up too fast. He needs to make sure he gets it right.

He wants you to feel loved again.


	3. Love is a villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and his wife go to visit a cemetery. One year later, it’s all gone to shit.

THE PAST

She’s wearing a long, navy coat that falls just above the knee, some ripped dark jeans she probably borrowed from Wanda and a pair of crisp white sneakers, her favourites. A grey striped blouse is tucked neatly into her trousers. Steve spots her from a mile away, carrying two bouquets of white peonies to honour her parents with.

After all, it’s their wedding anniversary.

“Good morning, love.”

She doesn’t say anything when he greets her. Instead, she takes his hand in hers and gives it a gentle squeeze. Her desolate eyes speak for themselves yet no tears seem to surface in the aftermath of her loss. He squeezes back slightly, letting her know he’s here for her, a shoulder to cry on when in need.

“It’s a beautiful autumn day,” she hums softly, guiding Steve through the graves of fallen war veterans and their relatives. It’s when she notices the single red poppy in Steve’s hand that she turns to look into his cerulean blue eyes, portraying the depths of his affection and the waters of his emotions in which she can swim without the fear of ever drowning.

His graceful features whisper of a tenderness unseen as a kind smile draws from the blond man’s lips. When he wraps his strong arms around her, engulfing her in the welcoming warmth of a loving embrace, she knows she’s made the right choice of confiding in him about her past. Her left hand skims the smooth material of his chequered blue dress shirt, holding on tightly whilst her right hand finds shelter in his back pocket. This is how they always comfort each other, this is what soothes the captain and his loving wife.

Footsteps reach their destination and halt in front of a marble grave inscribed with golden letters, a graceful scripture of two names and two dates decorating its front. The peonies she’s been clinging on to for dear life, afraid they’ll escape her grip before they have served their purpose, are placed with the utmost care and precision at the base of the grave.

“You want to do the honours?,” Steve asks her quietly, motioning towards the empty vase next to the picture of two people holding each other dearly, smiling in the camera at what would soon be their last Christmas party. She accepts his poppy with a small nod of her head.

“Hi mum, hi dad,” she whispers shyly, followed by a shaky sigh as a cold shiver runs down her spine. Steve takes hold of her hand once more, delicately kissing her cheek and muttering small words of encouragement in her ear.

“4 years ago I came to talk to you about this amazing guy I met on coincidence, during a fucking raid can you believe it? Sorry, language,” she mumbles, catching a glimpse of Steve’s sneaky smile.

“What I am trying to say is, it happened right when I least expected it. I talked to you about how cute he looked and what a loving personality he had. 3 years ago I told you I had moved in with the same man and 2 years back he proposed to me and I said yes. One year later we’re married and I can’t help but feel blessed to have ever met such a wonderful person. He truly brings the best out in me, dad, and he doesn’t have two left feet, mum. Just like I promised.”

She chuckles faintly, pushing her spotted black-and-white frames a little higher up her nose. They have travelled down the bridge of her nose again and she quickly adjusts them before returning her attention towards the silent conversation she’s holding with her deceased parents, her husband offering a safety net in case the grief becomes too much to bear.

“The dress was custom-made, I insisted upon it. Tony, you probably know Tony Stark, I guess – he just wouldn’t take no for an answer! He purchased the finest silk he could find as a so-called early wedding gift, behind our back! The fabric is called Duchesse satin for as far as I can recall. And Natasha, you probably don’t know Natasha Romanoff but she’s just such an incredible woman – she made sure the designer incorporated some Victorian accents as well. It’s a floor length dress with a trumpet silhouette, which fits closely to the body until midhip and then widens gradually to the hem, and a sweetheart neckline in beautifully embroidered Chantilly lace. Oh, mum, I wish you could’ve been there to see it yourself.”

“I’ve never seen a woman more enchanting than your daughter,” Steve adds almost inaudibly. “She’s the most gorgeous bride you’ll ever see.”

“I asked Steve’s best friend, James Barnes, to give me away, dad, I hope you don’t mind. It left us with a small technicality, though, as who would take up the role of best man with Bucky already spoken for? We figured it wouldn’t hurt if Bucky were to be both and it worked out perfectly. It was the wedding I’ve always dreamed of, daddy.”

A warm smile escapes her lips as she looks down at her hands, fingers still carefully interlaced with Steve’s.

“I love him, so I guess you were right. My first love will be my last love. Thanks for the heads up, paps.”

***

PRESENT DAY

“I won’t justify my actions towards you, Steve. I negotiate terms and conditions at work on a daily basis, so don’t you dare lecture me.”

“I’m not going to fight you on this, Y/N, just tell me honestly, do you still love me?”

For a minute the thought of Steve breaking down in tears right in front of you crosses your mind, followed by a haunting echo of Natasha’s reprimand invading every fibre of your being.

How could you do this to one another? Y/N, in sickness and in health, doesn’t that mean anything to you anymore? Steve, for better or for worst, did you mean it at all or is that your first, and your worst, fucking lie?

You clear your throat, trying to get rid of the lump forming at the back.

“If you’re asking me if I love you, then the answer is yes. If you’re asking me if I’m in love with you…” a wry smile creeps up on your lips and you heave out an anxious sigh. “Then the answer is negative, Captain.”

Small drops obscure your vision, falling onto your glasses because you failed to take an umbrella with you on your way to the patio. You had agreed to meet with your husband on neutral yet familiar ground, during a very stressful phone call three hours earlier. You had briefly contemplated calling off the meeting when you looked at the positive test results in the palm of your shaking hands. But if you didn’t face the situation head-on then when would you ever be able to move on?

So you went through with it, against your better judgement and the advice of Sam, your personal Switzerland. You could trust him to not take sides and remain neutral for the benefit of both you, your husband and your future baby, growing slowly but steadily inside your belly. You are definitely not ready to be a mother but terminating the pregnancy just because you didn’t have any faith left in your husband anymore was not an option either.

“Y/N, I’m begging you.”

Steve grabs your wrist not too gently, his calloused fingers digging into your skin, his touch trying to burn you to the bone. You flinch at the roughness of his actions, not used to this kind of behaviour from him outside the privacy of your bedroom walls. Crudely you pull you hand out of his grip.

“Fuck you, Steve,” you mutter under your breath before running off towards your car, your soaked hair clinging to your cheeks.

Violently rubbing your eyes in frustration, your waterproof make-up already long forgotten about, you fight back the urge to drop to your knees and cry until you have no tears, no fears and no worries left. All shouted away into the oblivion that seems to have taken residence in your mind, but not your heart, still firmly occupied by a desire for Steve and his unwavering dedication to his wife.

To you.

“Where are my fucking keys?” you scream into the pouring rain, fumbling ferociously in your handbag.

The moderate pressure of a hand placed on the small of your back has you jumping ten feet in the air. Only when you see Sam’s russet eyes stare right into your soul, your nerves seem to take it down a notch. He pulls you into his arms and you ease into the embrace, a sense of relief overpowering you and wiping away the sorrow recent events have brought upon you.

It’s a peaceful moment until he coughs nervously and the magic is gone.

“I have been watching the entire time. From a distance, of course, just like you asked. You really did a number on him, I’ve never seen Steve so conflicted in my entire life. But darling, it looks like you’re just as torn apart by this mess as he is. You sure you want to go through with it?”

“I have to. I need to. I can’t give birth to my child with darkness looming right around the corner.”

You look down at the ground below, feeling an eerie power creep up on you from deep inside. The veins of your hands are gradually turning darker with each passing second and you shove them in the pockets of your rain coat to avoid Sam catching on to what’s happening to you.

He knows, but he sure as hell doesn’t need to know everything.

You feel something tickling your fingertips and you dig a little deeper until you find your car keys stuffed away in your right jacket pocket. You sigh contently, saying your goodbyes to Sam as you get in your car.

Sam taps on the window just as you’re about to start the car.

“I have to go now, Sam. Bucky’s waiting for me.”

He furrows his brow, a concerned look clouding his brown eyes. “Have you told him yet?”

“No, I haven’t. Still waiting for the right time to come by.”

“Christ, Y/N,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief at your cowardice. “Every day he doesn’t get a definite answer from you, or just the smallest sign, a gentle push in the right direction,… it’s eating away at him. He’s dying inside, Y/N, little by little. Talk to him, please.”

“I will,” you say with much more resolve than you thought you would be able to muster, considering your life has been pretty much turned upside down since you left your husband standing on the porch of your old house.

“Just do me a favour, stop breathing down my neck about this, Sammy. You know I will tell him sooner rather than later. I just have to come to terms with it first.”

He nods in acknowledgement, knowing how hard this is on you. It’s a weight you shouldn’t even have to bear in the first place and yet here you are, carrying the bloody cross all by yourself anyway. You turn the radio on, ‘Suspicious minds’ by Elvis Presley blasting through your stereo as your face contorts almost immediately at the sickening tune, so happy it’s actually quite depressing.

Sam keeps watching you as you speed off the driveway and into the evening light. Even when he can’t discriminate the features of your car anymore from the trees and the other houses on the street. He just keeps on staring, unable to avert his eyes and his thoughts from your trembling form.

You looked so vulnerable while confronting Steve. You looked bent, almost reaching your breaking point. Yet as stubborn as you have always been, you refused to give in to the exhaustion overcoming your body with such adamant force it would knock any other man or woman out in mere seconds.

But they weren’t you, they simply weren’t you.

“Godspeed, darling,” he whispers into the night, turning on the balls of his feet and walking the remaining distance to his own car, catching a faint glimpse of a sole figure leaning against the remnants of a building once considered a home. Steve’s home.

Your home.


	4. Love is a disease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes care of your hangover. Sharon tries to dig up some dirt on you.

THE PAST

“Hey, sweetheart, I got you some warm milk with honey. How are you feeling?,” your darling Steve offers quietly when he takes a seat across from you on the King-size bed, the edge of the bed dipping slightly under his weight.

“I feel like Thor dropped his hammer on my head. Repeatedly,” you answer sluggishly, trying to diminish your hangover by softly rubbing your temples.

“The lights are so bright, why are they so bright, Stevie?”

You sigh audibly, taking the mug with the steaming white liquid of love from Steve, shooting him a small yet intensely grateful smile. You nurse the cup with both your hands, warming yourself up a little before taking a couple sips, naturally burning the tip of your tongue because you gulped down the hot milk way too eagerly. Steve laughs at your contorted expression, giving you his notorious ‘I told you so’ smile. You pat the empty space next to you, scooting over so you can sit comfortably in his lap, his arms wrapped protectively around your waist.

“How much did I drink?,” you ask reluctantly, your headache only intensifying as you look up at Steve’s sleep-deprived, red eyes. What did you do to that poor boy that has him looking like nightmare on Elm Street instead of a sexy supermodel?

“First we had a couple shots of Tequila, courtesy of Nat of course. Afterwards I drank a few beers with Bucky while you and Wanda took to that expensive bottle of French white wine you had stashed away behind your bedroom door. As far as I can remember, once everyone had left, you found half a bottle of Russian vodka in your fridge from last week’s rendezvous.”

“Shit,” you murmur, flashes of memories rushing back to you, from a drunk Wanda dancing on your kitchen table to a tipsy – and shirtless – Bucky trying to win a match of thumb wrestling against a very intoxicated – and pants-less – Tony. Oh what a night.

“Shit,” you repeat as you try to get up from your bed but your legs give way underneath you almost instantly. An agonizing pain shoots through your thighs and let out a piercing scream. Luckily, Steve is there to catch you, lifting you up in his arms and carrying you back to your cosy sheets.

“Fuck, I can’t walk.” Your eyes search Steve’s for an explanation as to why you almost dropped face-first on the floor. A sly smirk creeps up on his still slightly swollen lips and you can’t help but wonder if last night stopped after you snuggled up to Steve on the couch or if the night had only started with some innocent cuddling and your boyfriend had taken an entirely different approach later on, his devious blue eyes twinkling with amusement alerting you that was probably the case.

“You were pretty wasted, so I’m not surprised you don’t remember. But trust me when I tell you, that’s quite the appetite you have here, tiger. I’m only happy I could help out,” he winks mischievously, tickling your sides whilst repeating ‘my baby tiger’ over and over again before you playfully slap him on the arm, groaning at how hard his biceps are under your touch. So tight it peaks your curiosity, maybe he used all that super soldier strength for your benefit last night?

“What else did I say or do that I might not recall at the moment?,” you asks, eyes squinting as he laughs at you suspiciously, flashing his pearly white teeth and you’re afraid that stupid lopsided grin of his is going to split his face in half sooner or later.

“Let’s get you some rest first, okay baby girl? We’re meeting up with Coulson, Sharon, Bruce and Tony first thing tomorrow morning and we need you to be peachy.”

You cuss under your breath, you liquor-induced brain completely forgotten about your appointment for the psych evaluation and some other tests Coulson wants to run. You had insisted on Bruce looking after your blood results and that it must be Sharon to lead the interrogations afterwards. Having Tony there was your insurance policy, mainly because you were afraid of losing Steve and knew Tony would do a good job at talking some sense into him.

“You’re not going anywhere, are you?,” you ask with your best puppy dog eyes impression, knowing Steve can’t resist it when you batt your eyelashes seductively and pout like a lost pup looking for a warm home.

And it seems to be working because as soon as you squeal out a little ‘please’ and purse your lips for added effect, he pulls you onto his chest.

“I love you, doll, no matter what happens tomorrow,” Steve assures you, pecking your hair lightly as your heart swells a little more.

You make yourself comfortable, enveloped in Steve’s tranquil warmth, his steady breaths rocking you sound asleep.

***

NEXT

“Okay, let’s get started.” Tony claps his hands to enforce his statement, prying you from underneath Steve’s doting gaze and hustling you towards the interrogation room set up in the middle of the lab especially for this occasion.

Sharon is already waiting inside, a studying aura about her as she takes you in from head to toe, looking back and forth between you and Steve. Despite that you both get along just fine, she’s still very wary of you half of the time. You understand her predicament, knowing she has feelings for Steve as well, but it only fuels your suspicions about her more. You don’t need any powers to figure out she’d prefer it to be her in his arms, not you. Nevertheless, she’s a damn good agent and you respect her for that.

“Agent.” You give her a polite nod and she gives you a little forced smile in return. Sharon motions for you to sit and you do as you are told. Arranging the folders in front of her, she opens the top one and starts the cross-examination.

“You told the Avengers you are an empath. Are you willing to disclose some more details with us?”

“Where do I start?” There’s a dangerous edge to your voice and you’re not quite sure where it came from. The hard look in her eyes tells you she’s not pleased with your reaction.

“The beginning, if you please,” Sharon answers, slightly irritated by your lack of enthusiasm. You wanted her here, not the other way around yet she does not know why, inches away from giving you a reprimand about your childish antics as you can almost see the steam escaping her ears.

“By all means,” you reply dryly, gracing her with a cheeky smile.

Rolling up the sleeves of your leather jacket so your hands and underarms are visible to the naked eye, you start the process of tapping into the essence of the room. There’s a lot of nervousness and discomfort, even a little anxiety greeting you while you work your way through the hearts of all men present.

“If I don’t control this power, it’ll affect everyone. And I’m not just talking about the people in this tower. I mean, every single soul on this God forsaken planet.”

Tony’s is obsessed with remnants of his past, as one would expect. Taking your time with Steve, you suppress the tendency to lock away a part of the hurt that transpires deep within his mind, instead moving on to a much darker path. You look for the hunter, the predator in every single one of them, blocking out signals of protest as the shadows start to gain more territory, veins turning darker and darker the deeper you dig into the other souls bustling about the compound.

“I - I was born with it, in case you’re wondering.”

When you mentally reach the sleeping quarters, you experience a blast of calm and cheerfulness which you immediately snap into tiny smithereens, stepping onto it as if it’s just a twig in the forest of your mind. Pushing a little harder, a wave of sentiment hits you from behind. Turning your head to the right, you recognise the mysterious emotion that has reached your boyfriend’s cobalt eyes. You identify it as sheer panic. Lulling your head back, you erase it from his soul.

Wiping the slate clean, so to speak.

“Once I’m finished with psychologically harassing my victim of choice, a haunting terror will have settled in the their bones. That way it will be easier for me to snatch away their light. But let’s be clear about one thing, I’ve never done that to anyone. Ever.”

Sharon is keeping a close eye on you, mouth agape as you turn the palm of your hand so she can see the discoloration of your veins more clearly. Dusk has settled in every cell of your body, slowly showing its true colours – or lack thereof. It’s like you took a bath in a bucket of black paint.

“Once I’m done with psychologically harassing my victim of choice, a haunting terror will have settled in their poor bones.”

You chuckle darkly, your hands disappearing under the table as your roll down your sleeves to avoid Sharon from getting too distracted by your little demonstration.

“Sure, I am an empath. I heighten your feelings, just not the good ones. I was designed that way.”

Sharon flinches at these last words. Designed. Shivers run down her spine as she tries to suppress a foreboding sense of distress from taking over her now trembling hands.

“The only one that seems to be somewhat immune is Bucky. Whatever Hydra has done to him, it made him resistant to my influence. But I trust Tony to find a cure.”

You cast your eyes downward, only meeting Steve’s eyes when he gently puts a hand on your shoulder. He has walked up towards you and you fold your arms around him.

“Want to take a break?,” he asks you kindly.

“No, I’m good.”

Your mouth has run dry and you ask him for a glass of water. He returns with a plastic bottle and shrews the lid off, taking a big gulp of the cold fluid. It brings you back to your senses.

Meanwhile Steve is whispering something to Sharon, something along the lines of ‘making sure she doesn’t overstep any boundaries or else she’ll have to deal with him personally’. Recent events seem to have switched on his defensive mode. You’ve just showed the world what a monster you can be and he still stands up for you.

Sharon doesn’t take her seat across from you, yet pulls out the chair next to you. You doubt if it’s professional to do so and if it’s just a trick to gain your trust, but you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

“You transferred teams quite a lot these last few years. Tell me, why is that?”

Although you expected this to be one of the first questions, you are still caught off guard. Your heartbeat is skyrocketing so you link your fingers underneath the table, digging your nails in the fabric of you blue jeans.

“I have a degree in psychology and one in law. I graduated cum laude both times. When I joined the NYPD, I was assigned to the stress response team. I got in contact with several victims of domestic abuse amongst other felonies, but mostly spousal abuse. I made sure to put the bastards behind bars and help their victims through their suffering.”

Sharon locks eyes with you. Outside the room you can hear Tony clear his throat repeatedly, the tension inside the glass box palpable, almost visible. You avert your eyes and look at Steve instead, shuffling uncomfortably next to Tony.

“Whenever you’re ready, miss Y/L/N,” Sharon adds softly, yet she’s still eyeing you cautiously, like you might lash out at her at any given moment.

You raise your head, meeting her piercing gaze once more. “One Wednesday evening I got attacked on my way home. They forced me to take 5 months leave and some vacation days. Even added two weeks of sick days I had yet to take up. I decided resistance was not the best approach, so I travelled through Europe for the rest of the year, returning home two days before Christmas. When it was time for me to resume work, they had already replaced me.”

You notice you’ve been clenching your teeth together and mindlessly rub your jaw to relieve some of the tension that has built up in your body. With a lot of spite and sorrow you recall the events that will lead Sharon down a path she might not be ready for. But you honestly have no choice than to move forward if you ever want to move on.

“They transferred me to numerous units afterwards. First it was the homicide squad but I didn’t get along with my superior. They promoted me to avoid further disagreement and shipped me off to major crimes. That didn’t last long either. I bounced to sexual offences next and they haven’t regretted that decision - yet. I love working with my team, they’re the best in their field of expertise. We catch the killers, the paedophiles and other scum and we lock them away.”

“Can you tell me what happened on July the third, 2011?”

You almost choke on your water. She’s not supposed to bring that up. It’s one of the arrangements you made with Coulson earlier, about what Sharon would be allowed to bring into the conversation and which subjects she ought to leave alone. For everyone’s own good. Apparently he didn’t listen.

A single tear trickles down your cheek. “I was abducted.”

People look for meaning everywhere they come yet never find it because they don’t see it’s right in front of them. And some people, people like yourself, will never come across the happiness they deserve because it has been taken away from them by others. Others like Minerva.

You can’t just punch through the darkness and run towards the light like nothing has ever happened. It’s a part of you now.


	5. Love is a thief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Steve make amends and it ends on a positive note. Or does it?

THE PAST

A little red bag is waiting for you when you come home to the apartment you used to share with your husband Steve. There’s a note next to it, handwritten and neatly folded in a plain white envelope. You open the envelope with caution, not knowing what you’re expecting to read yet surprised when you recognise the scribbling as Steve’s.

Dear Y/N,

I’m sorry.

I know this won’t make up for my mistakes,

but I hope you like it anyway.

I love you.

Forever yours,

S.G.R.

“I wrote it in a hurry.”

Clutching a hand over your heart in shock, you turn around to see Steve standing in the doorway, head hung low and eyes casts towards the hardwood floor. He must’ve come in after you, or he must have been in the apartment all along.

“Go ahead,” he whispers nervously and you notice he has a nice pair of designer bags under his magnetic blue eyes. He must not be getting much sleep lately either.

“Open it,” he encourages softly, trying not to come across as too pushy.

Struggling with the gift wrapping, Steve decides to lend you a hand. A bashful smile slips past his lips as he turns over the oval shaped, brown box to you. Inside is a new pair of glasses, almost an exact match to your old ones only they are mocha coloured instead of the monochrome frames you used to sport on the daily.

“You want to try them on? I know your prescription by heart, but I might have gotten it wrong, I don’t know…”

Steve’s timid voice trails off as you head over to the large mirror hung on your bedroom door. It had taken a lot of effort to get it in the right place, but it remained your talisman nonetheless. It was a gift from Steve when he first moved in with you and you wanted to give it a permanent spot in your home. That way, when you would look at yourself in the mirror, Steve would be looking too. A romantic thought, such a cliché if you come to think of it now.

The glasses fit your perfectly and who knows, you might take a liking to their softer tint after you’ve gotten used to the new view. They do bring out your eyes though, and you suspect this is the reason why Steve picked these out in the first place.

“I like this new me. Thank you,” you reply honestly, crossing the remaining distance between you and Steve. He laughs a little, the smile lines around his eyes you love so much making an appearance.

“I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have called you Fury’s bitch.”

“It’s okay, darling. I don’t even remember what started the argument.”

You give him a small hug, breathing in his signature cedar scent. Peering over your glasses, you notice he has visibly relaxed. Making amends feels good, although you are both at a loss for words afterwards, shuffling awkwardly as you try to figure out something else to say.

“I better get going then,” he announces suddenly, reaching for the door handle when you stop him, blocking the doorway with your entire body as if that’s ever enough to keep a super soldier from leaving.

“The couch is yours, if you want to stay, that is.”

Night is starting to fall and you don’t want him to drive back to Stark Tower in the dark and all by himself. He might be a bad-ass Avenger now, but that little kid from Brooklyn also never left and you considered it your spousal duty to protect him for as long as you could – or are allowed to since you had missed out on a right to claim him is as your husband when you returned your wedding ring.

“It’s getting late and I don’t want you out and about at this ungodly hour.”

Steve sends a fond half smile your way and despite your mind’s best efforts to tell your heart no, your vagina is giving your heart all the permission it needs to continue down your personal path to destruction. You want your man back, the man that can split a log of wood in two with his bare hands.

“Or you can climb in the bed with me.”

You can see he is taken aback by this unexpected turn in the conversation, such boldness no longer reserved for him. That privilege was taken away from him the moment he decided to push you away yet here you are, talking about making love for old times’ sake.

“You don’t mean that,” he counteracts yet against his better judgement, he can’t seem to keep his eyes of you, your tight pencil skirt hugging your beautifully defined curves in all the right places. His mouth starts to water at the thought of ripping the black leather off of you. He had just started to crawl out of his pit of despair and depression, slowly opening up to the idea he might never feel your loving touch ever again, only to be sucked in again by this carnal need burning its way through his veins.

To hell with self-control.

Before you can deflect his words, he blurts out a shy “I want to kiss you” followed by a more determined, more primal “I am going to kiss you”.

Your eyes connect with Steve’s and it knocks the wind right out of your lungs. There’s tenderness in his touch as he cups your face, the palm of his hand red-hot on your cheek. He kisses you tenderly yet it feels as if your breath is being ripped out of your throat. Your eyes flutter close and for just a moment, time stands still.

He sweeps you up in his arms much like he did when he carried you over the threshold of the compound the evening of your wedding day, considerably intoxicated with Tony’s expensive champagne and high on each other’s unadulterated happiness.

Steve’s kissing you still, his lips only parting from yours to take quick and shallow breaths. Your heart sinks as his gorgeous smile dissolves into a faint glimmer of melancholy when he gently lays you down on the bed, careful as always not to break his wife, treating you like you are made of china.

“I adore you, Y/N. I hope I can prove that to you tonight.”

He’s a passionate lover, always has been. His ministrations are affectionate yet a bit rough around the edges, Steve hasn’t been with his wife in a long time and is unsure of how to continue, unsure if he can still make you scream out his name when he rolls your sensitive bundle of nerves between his teeth for the first time. He moves slowly and sensually until a soft moan falls from your lips, urging him to do as he pleases. A feral instinct takes over as he draws out your pleasure as well as his own.

Unfortunately you failed to mention you are no longer on birth control.

***

THE PAST

You could catch his scent from miles, even without a little help from your night vision leaving you with a clear view of his features. A whimsical mixture of white musk, a touch of salt from breaking a sweat and some old-fashioned yet haughty patriotism that characterises only one person in the whole wide world, tickles your nostrils as you suppress the reflex to gag.

Normally his odour would not bother you at all, lest you would welcome it with open arms if it wasn’t for something else lingering in the atmosphere, something you thought quite disturbing. Who knows what your next move will be if all the pawns are scrambled on the board.

But what you do know is this, he got here faster than originally anticipated and you haven’t figured out yet if you should be grateful for his undying dedication to you – since technically, you are still his wife, his resolve to save you and pat him on the back once you finally meet. Or be worried that your time schedule will get all messed up and kick him in the nuts for good measure. Your gut tells you to go with the latter.

The discoloration of the veins in your left hand is going to give you away so you have to think and act as quickly as possible before he reaches you. From afar, it looks like you have several tattoos the shape of vines decorating your entire body, but upon closer inspection you will notice that it runs much deeper than the epidermis. You have embraced the obscurity that surrounds you but that does not mean someone else will too.

“I see her! Buck, you’re with Nat. Scale the perimeter and let me know when it’s safe to approach.”

His voice, his voice is so nice. You used to hang on his every word, no matter how insignificant it may have been.

“I’m here, Steve,” you call out into the void.

You’ve never been more comfortable, sitting in the middle of nowhere with some mild entertainment in the form of a trashy romance novel, patiently awaiting for your prey to arrive. It’s almost finished, the lovers eventually reunited after a sensational journey of betrayal and mind-blowing sex. So maybe it’s time for some real action, you decide. You are being watched rather closely, and not by an the enhanced super soldier now standing in your line of sight.

“You can come closer, it’s alright.”

Your voice does not sound like your voice at all, with a raspy edge from dehydration (you forgot to pack a bottle of water) and a pitch higher than usual from crying out too loud when they stuck a needle in your neck.

“Y/N.”

Out of the dark blanket of night, his figure emerges into the moonlight, clad in his typical red, white and blue uniform, his archetypal triclolour shield at the ready. As a teenage girl you would’ve swooned over the sight of him, as a university student you would’ve been down for a private party with the man standing in front of you. Who would’ve thought you’d end up marrying him one day.

“Yes?”

It’s unmistakable, the absence of a question in both your voice and eyes, the heavy presence of a strange awareness going back and forth between your body and Steve’s. Your name makes you feel vulnerable, so exposed.

But you like to play it coy, give him a run for his money. Out of pure amusement or out of spite, you haven’t figured that one out yet.

“Honestly, there’s no one I’d rather be than you wife, Captain.”

You remember the dimples in his cheeks when he’s laughing at another one of your lame jokes or the way his lips curl slightly when he likes what you’re wearing a little too much. Perhaps it’s the hormones, but it sickens you.

“All I ever wanted to do was get married and have a kid or two. Preferably with you. And look where that got me.”


	6. Love is a medicine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva’s plans are about to be revealed.

“I don’t understand your constant resistance, miss Y/N. I trust my colleagues have already explained to you the urgency of our request. Our offer stands till midnight.”

The man that had introduced himself to you as your handler, could be easily considered the epitome of diplomacy. He draws out every single word as if carefully weighed in light of recent events, continuously assessing the situation and keeping track of his partner’s body language and general demeanour. He has an aura of expertise about him and carries himself as if he is the only person in charge when you know this is in fact a grotesque misunderstanding. He is merely a puppet of the organisation that kidnapped you, while whoever the mastermind might be, is pulling all the strings behind the scenes.

“I come work for you and you let me go.”

He is Minerva’s showman, put on display in order to give a reliable face to the cause. He has taken upon himself the role of a father figure and although you should give it to him that he is dedicated to the part he has been assigned to, his kind and considerate gesticulations do not fool you. They mean to deceive you and you simply will not let them.

“Exactly.”

You are fairly sure he’s wearing a wig and you pity the poor animal that has died for his less than satisfactory aesthetical appearance. Maybe when he was younger, he might’ve been a handsome chap. But his eyes, a gaudy green and as mischievous as a cat’s, have lost their appeal long ago. Only a dark shadow of this man remains.

“You have a very rare mutation we like to call ‘dark blood’. It’s not a condition, not an affliction, neither a deadly disease. The program you would be participating in is called Nox, which is Latin for night. The scientists will refer to your kind as ‘dark bloods’, although we prefer to use the term ‘night people’.”

A soft knock on the door interrupts his commendation. You expect to see another male or female in a white lab coat to enter the small office you have resided in, but it is Lexa who enters instead. She gives you a small smile, but is refrained by the showman from speaking to you directly and avoids all eye contact with you from then on. There’s an abhorrent deep cut on her right cheek and her entire body seems to hurt with every move she makes. She looks utterly defeated, with smudged make-up all over her face and dried blood on her clothes. The spitting image of a living corpse.

“We can help you refine your mind, sharpen your wit. Your powers will peak under our supervision. Your dear friend Lexa has already agreed to participate. You see, it is her greatest wish to be a psychic and who are we to not grant her that wish?”

Her eyes are trained on yours, scanning you, taking in every feature in anticipation of your reaction. You bite down hard on your bottom lip to refrain yourself from wiping the shit-eating grin off of his face. Of course she agreed, it appears as if she’s been tortured so many times the screams have become silent cries for help and the executor has lost count of how many techniques he already used on her.

“As for you, Y/N, you are the darkest corners of the human mind. You have been given insight in the deepest, darkest desires of the human soul. We offered your friend power, but we offer you control.”

“Are you a true believer?,” you interject, voice deeper than usual as you slip into your old Cockney accent. There’s danger behind your eyes and you feel a dimness fall over the room.

“I mean, do you believe in the work you do here? Train people to become the worst version of themselves?”

His tongue darts along his lips as he happily answers your question, his voice smoothed over by the velvet honesty he applies oh so delicately. You must give it to him, he is one hell of a performer which only makes you despise him even more.

“I’m a firm believer in a solid pay check with a six digit number on it. But I have no complaints,” he says with fake nonchalance.

“Darling, I hope you understand the importance of your decision. Do not consider this as an ultimatum, but as an opportunity to thrive. We would never force you to commit to our cause, we wish you no harm. But let one thing be painstakingly clear. If you accept my proposal, you will walk out of here first thing tomorrow morning. If you do not accept my proposition, do not expect to wake up at all.”

***

“Y/N, please sit down.”

You try to fight him but the pressure is too powerful as you tumble down the rabbit hole. Black spots appear at the corner of your eye as your lungs start to fail you. Bucky has to steady you to prevent you from hitting your head on the corner of the kitchen table.

“I opened up to Steve,” you cry out as he sits you both down on the purple love-seat Wanda bought to cheer up your apartment when Steve had finally made your relationship official.

“I told him about Minerva, about the things that they made me do. I told him about Nox and how they turned me into the despicable person I am now. I gave him my heart, I thought he could protect my heart when I would be unable to do so.”

Your head snaps up to meet his eyes, the thunder behind yours complementing the rainclouds behind his. During your entire friendship you have never seen Bucky Barnes more miserable, sorrow washing over him like a tidal wave, yet the only thing you wish to do now is run away.

“Doll, he has been busting his ass off to find a solid lead on their whereabouts.”

Bucky tries to mitigate but you give it no attention, instead focussing on the little specks of grey in his otherwise bright blue eyes. You wonder when was the last time you had actually taken your time to appreciate such beauty? Your face turns stoic as you shake these ridiculous thoughts away.

“He’ll keep on searching until he finds something. He works day and night with Tony and Bruce, looking for a cure.”

“No, you don’t understand, Bucky.” Silent tears are rolling down your cheeks and Bucky wipes them away with his flesh hand, enamouring you with his tenderness.

“Our marriage is a sinking ship and it’s my fault,” you shout, turning your back at him so he wouldn’t hear the quiet sob fleeing your lips.

“Don’t say that, darling. Steve loves you with all his heart. ”

You mull the words over in your mind before your mouth decides to act on impulse and spill them out anyway.

“He’s afraid of me, Bucky. My own husband is afraid of me ever since he found me in those woods. With good reason.”

This kind of guilt feels strange, a concept so foreign you thought you’d never fully comprehend it.

“You weren’t yourself, Y/N. They messed with your mind just like they did before. You haven’t talked to anyone about what happened, so maybe it’s time that you do. Talking helps, take it from me, a brainwashed ex-assassin.”

“I’m talking to you, right?,” you counteract, hoping Bucky will drop the subject.

“That’s not what I meant, Y/N, and you know it.”

You try to find something to focus your attention on it and settle on the afterglow of Bucky’s metal hand in last rays of sunlight. The silver material has a soothing effect on you and you reach out to hold his hand. Although your decision seems to have startled him, he doesn’t pulls his hand away. Bucky flinches a little under how cold your touch actually is, noticing how pale and almost see-through your skin appears to be.

“An unknown woman paid me a visit. She told me how she’d struck a deal, a deal to save her life. She didn’t meet their standards anymore and they were going to eliminate her. Only she couldn’t keep up her end of the bargain and now they’re hunting her down. She explained to me how an unknown woman had approached her on a night pretty much like that one. Her new contract was simple, pass along a message to me and they’d leave her alone for good.”

“What was the message?” His voice is dark and raspy, cerulean eyes measuring you up before wrapping his arms around you as a strangled scream escapes your throat. He pulls you close, your head cradled on his chest as your hand covers your mouth to silence another sob.

“I’m tarnished.” You draw a shaky breath, tears staining the grey fabric of Bucky’s sweater. “It had been a plan long in the making. From the moment I set foot on campus till the moment my contract with them was terminated. It has all been a hoax.”

After what felt like hours of woeful cries and unsuccessful comforting on his part, Bucky gently rocking you back and forth, you asked for a tissue to capture the last of your sniffles. Your voice remains broken as you walk him through what happened, every now and then closing your eyes and taking a deep breath to prevent the images of the syringes from flashing by.

They didn’t just design you, they manipulated you, played you like they did with others. You were the chosen one. They made you, girl.

Her giggle still resonates in your ears and you flinch at the thought of how such jovial laughter could sound so menacing at the same time.

You were the ideal Guinea pig, a British expat with a sharp tongue and a mind of her own. A woman that knows her value, right? God, look at you! You are her, Peggy Carter, they made damn sure of it, didn’t they? Christ, did you dye your hair or it that your natural colour? And those eyes, the same eyes!

Her astonishment had been genuine, which made this all the more painful for you. You had been a natural blonde before but one morning decided you needed a change although you never really knew why. Minerva’s ways had been subtle and almost gentle, administrating the right amount of pressure to make sure you would bend to their will but not break under the weight of their silent influence.

Were you really so naïve as to think that Steve Rogers, aka Captain fucking America, would ever fall in love with you if they hadn’t moulded you into perfection first? Did you really believe he is your soul mate? The whole thing has been orchestrated from the very start and you played the part beautifully. They should thank you for that, you know.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, the light sting of pain helping you maintain your focus as you shudder into the memory of the woman’s final words.

“There’s a reason why my powers affect Steve the most.”

You watch as Bucky’s lips slowly part, yet it seems the words on his mind have failed him. Giving Bucky a teary-eyed smile, you join your fingers with his. He is the anchor that keeps you grounded.

But now time has come for you to end whatever it is that’s going on between you and James Barnes. You have enjoyed yourself too much, at their expenses. It’s most unfortunate that you have found your equal in this man. Play time is over, girl. Kill the captain or we kill the soldier.”

“They want him dead. And they need me to do it.”


	7. Love is a monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas special.

THEIR LAST CHRISTMAS - STEVE’S POV

Barely able to contain her excitement, she tears the gift-wrapping apart, vivid green shreds falling everywhere around them as he watches her elatedly, a huge dorky grin taking over her beautiful face and it makes his heart flutter. She gasps upon taking in the contents of the little parcel he has spent so much time trying to find the perfect ingredients for.

It reveals a tube of her go-to red lipstick, the one that gets him to turn all shades of pink whenever she wears it because it looks so damn irresistible on those lush lips and it makes Steve want to kiss her so badly he doesn’t even care about smudging it. There’s a flask of her signature perfume in there too, the one he loves so much because when he wakes up early in the morning there’s always some lingering in her hair still, its fruity scent a fresh breath of air on the first day of spring.

She takes out the reindeer sweater with a child-like enthusiasm, holding it up for him to see. It’s obviously a couple sizes too big for her but that has been exactly his intent. She knows he can’t take his hands off of her whenever she dives into Steve’s closet and finds herself one of his sweaters or t-shirts to wear. They’re too big and so incredibly sexy on her that they are left discarded on the bedroom floor within seconds after she has emerged from their walk-in wardrobe.

Then her eyes lock on the crown jewel of Steve’s Secret Santa quest: an absolutely stunning silver necklace with two charms, one to match Cap’s shield and the other a bright red, heart-shaped diamond, their intense colour shining brilliantly in the vibrant decorations of Toy’s excessively ornate Christmas tree.

“This must’ve cost a fortune,” she gasps, her mind struggling to take in all this generosity. Steve winks at Sam as a thank you for pitching the idea to the team, knowing he did so solely for Y/N in an attempt to bring some light back into her life because God knows she deserves the whole sun.

“I think I have a pretty good idea who my top-secret benefactor is,” she announces affectionately before turning her attention towards her now gloating husband.

She takes his hands in hers, softly kissing his knuckles whilst muttering a doting ‘I love you’. He hooks a finger under her jaw before kissing her sweetly. His arm snakes its way behind her back as Steve presses her body flush against his chest, pecking her temple lovingly and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. She nudges his shoulder when he gives her earlobe a gently tug with his lips, extracting a stifled moan from her as she’s trying hard not to make any more sound. 

His hand comes to rest on her lower back, goose bumps rising as the warmth of the palm of his hand makes contact with a small strip of exposed skin as his fingertips slip underneath the blue fabric of her indigo shirt.

The room has fallen into a comfortable silence as the other Avengers watch Steve tuck her in with his blanket. She takes his face into her hands as he does the same, cupping her face whilst his calloused thumbs draw circles on her cheeks. He slowly leans in closer until their noses are but inches away from one another, whispering a loving ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about’ against her lips before kissing her languidly yet passionately.

Although this little moment of intimacy and gross PDA makes the team feel a tiny bit uncomfortable, they’re perfectly happy with being the third wheel even if it’s just for this once. Y/N deserves the bubble of happiness in which she and her husband Steve have resided in, given that he has never felt more in love with anyone but her and the feeling’s entirely mutual. Their gazes shifts to them when her laugh suddenly fills the entire room, trying to swat away Steve’s zealous fingers that have her cornered on the edge of the couch and extract a fit of giggles as they attack their extremely ticklish target. They don’t stop their conquest until small tears of happiness run down her cheeks.

Of course the entire thing has been a set-up to begin with, Tony having raked the name-drawing game from the start so there was no doubt the two of them would end up being each other’s Secret Santa.

***

THIS CHRISTMAS

You had been prepared to celebrate this Christmas all by yourself, adorning your less than impressive fake tree with some leftover lights and discarded ornaments from last year’s over-the-top party, all set with a glass of red wine resting on the kitchen countertop together with some blueberry cupcakes you picked up on your way back to your apartment. About to make some final touches when the doorbell suddenly chimed, you cussed under your breath at whoever decided to disturb your peace at this hour of night. That’s when Bucky Barnes and his ridiculously charming smile wormed their way into your Christmas dinner, not entirely against your will because you missed having his company around.

Things have been a little… tricky lately. Your separation with Steve wasn’t final, although you had fallen into a comfy rhythm with Bucky and the rest of the team. Wanda would pay you a visit on the regular, sometimes accompanied by another member such as Clint or Vision or even T ‘Challa, all those who didn’t hold any grudges against you. Nat’s still pissed at you for breaking Steve’s heart, although she’s slowly coming to her senses. Sam filled her in on the complicated situation you’re facing, your dark powers not allowing you to even be in the same room with Steve without it leading to general mayhem. He did however fail to mention your other problem, namely your hidden pregnancy, something only Sam, Wanda and Bucky knew about. 

“Wanda said she’d cover for me,” he explained with a casual shrug when you asked him how on earth the team wasn’t going to notice his sudden absence from another of Tony’s sumptuous feasts.

“Besides, I can’t have my best girl celebrate a night like this alone, can I?,” he adds with a cheeky grin. You avoid his stare by fussing about your kitchen with the meagre meal you had prepared for yourself, a chill crawling down your spine as you feel his baby blues bore their way down your back. You are stopped short when you feel his hot breath fanning over your neck, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he spins your around, bringing you chest to chest.

“Am I your best girl, Buck?,” you breathe shyly into the fabric of his red Henley as you lay your head to rest on his chest.

“I love you and you love me, does that not make you my best girl?”

You raise your eyes from his full lips to his cerulean orbs and melt at the sight of him already staring back at you, so much affection and devotion behind those irresistible eyes it makes your voice break and a puddle form between your legs.

“I – I love you, too,” you manage to croak out before a faint smile finds its way to your lips. You rest your forehead against his, lacing your fingers around his neck and kissing him tenderly.

“I don’t know how you put up with me. I’m pregnant with another man’s child and you still treat me like I’m your queen.”

His eyes are getting watery as he sighs heavily, blinking back the tears and swallowing thickly.

“I already explained to you why that is. In a moment of weakness, you and Steve got together one last night. Once you realised your mistake, you didn’t want to face him afterwards, so you bolted as soon as you woke up. You asked for my forgiveness although I was never in any position to give you that. You chose me and I chose you.”

Bucky’s head dips down to capture your lips in a loving kiss, your lips softly asking for permission to deepen the kiss and explore him a little further. He tightens his arms around you and you hook your fingers in his long mocha tresses, chuckling quietly against his pink lips as his metal arm squeezes your bottom affectionately. You grab a fistful of his t-shirt to prevent him from breaking away but it is to no avail.

His slender fingers intertwine with yours and Bucky momentarily closes his eyes, breathing in your scent and pecking your hair lightly. You let out a shivering breath, trying to find the words to describe what you had just felt, but his loving gaze tells you there’s no need to explain because he feels the exact same way.

You take his chiselled jaw in your hand, fingertips playfully drawing nonsense patterns on his cheeks. “I needed this. I needed to be sure of us. Thank you, James, for being there for me when… When Steve wasn’t.”

His nose grazes the outline of your jaw, his warm breath tickling your lips. “I will always be there for you.”

Bucky takes a step back and you whine at the loss of his warmth. He lets out a light laugh before reaching out his hand and you happily take it in yours, pulling him closer against you as he leads the way to your bedroom.

You’re standing in between his legs, his strong arms wrapped around your waist as you card your fingers through his tousled hair, reassuring him with the warmth of your body and your soothing words. He nuzzles his head just underneath the curve of your breasts, his breath caressing your expecting tummy. Fingers dip underneath the lace of your panties and a muffled moan falls from your lips as one cold and one warm hand cup your ass, teasingly massaging the soft flesh with his fingertips. He softly kisses your belly button, looking up at you with those puppy dog eyes.

“What’s going on in here?,” a firm voice calls out from behind you, the shadow of a man taking a step forward out of the shadows and into the faint moonlight cloaking your bed in various shades of dark blue. His stern gaze shifts between you and his former friend a couple times before locking his scorning eyes with yours, his height is intimidating as he towers over you, closing the gap between your body, clad in only your underwear, and his own, straight from a mission as he is still dressed in his stealth suit.

Bucky quickly jumps to his feet, blocking your view of a fuming Steve, with his broad shoulders and muscled back. The heightened awareness causes a sharp mood swing in the atmosphere, an intimate scene of comfort and calm quickly turning into one of dominance, the air pulled taut as the weight of current events settles into everyone’s bones.

“Quit the attitude,” Bucky hisses at Steve.

“Please, Steve,” you plead silently from behind your lover, afraid that if Steve takes one more step towards Bucky the situation might not be salvageable anymore.

“How do you expect me to move on when you’re inviting him into our bedroom?”

“Steve,” you say harshly, stepping out from behind Bucky to give him a clear view of your complete form. “Keep calm, for the baby’s sake. And yes, it’s definitely yours.”


	8. Love is a solution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You take back matters into your own hands, but for how long? Another part of the plan is revealed. (A big thank you goes out to Google Translate for helping me with the Russian.)

THE FUTURE

“You sure about this, doll?,” Bucky questions hesitantly as you straighten his skin-tight uniform and button up the jacket of your own. He’s giving you that look, the ‘I know you think this is the right thing to do but trust me it’s not’ – look you’ve been on the receiving end of quite a few times these past few weeks. You bend down to tie up your shoelaces, temporarily escaping Nat’s curious gaze from across the room. She’s keeping an eye out for you on Steve, currently speaking on the phone to Coulson about your plan, your grand escape from Minerva. The only way you could think of to keep your family safe. And Bucky, too.

“I know, sir. But she’s determined to go on with it.” There’s a pregnant pause before Steve’s voice carries across the vast open space once more, the strain in his tone noticeable. “Yes, sir. Things can be set in motion immediately.” And then finally “She’ll be in good hands. I trust agent Romanoff with my life.”

Nat gives you a curt nod, indicating Coulson has just given the final approval you’ve been waiting for. Grabbing your bag from the couch, you struggle with the keys to your apartment because your hands won’t stop shaking. This is not without consequences and there’s no failsafe nor safety net and if you’re being completely honest with yourself… You’re scared shitless.

“Easy, love. Let me lock up for you.” The gentle press of Bucky’s hand on your shoulder grounds you, the soothing tone to his voice bringing the calm back into your hazy mind.

But it’s merely the calm before the storm.

“You go talk to Steve. You might be on good terms, but that doesn’t mean there’s nothing left to discuss. You can say your goodbyes to the rest of the team later. Consider speaking to Steve your top priority right now.”

He gestures towards where Steve is standing with his back against the wall, talking animatedly to Nat about the extra precautions he’s taken in case it all goes south. You open your mouth to call him over when you hear little cries coming from the buggy positioned at the base of the stairs.

“I’ll go.” Natasha scoots past you and towards the baby carriage but Bucky beats her to it. He picks up your blond bundle of joy and cradles the child in his arms, his flesh hand supporting its tiny head and lulling it back to sleep by softly singing the Armenian lullaby he has been repeating ever since you gave birth to this little, blue-eyed human being. Bucky is quite good with kids and somehow that doesn’t surprise you at all.

“I couldn’t have asked for a better babysitter.” Steve has moved from his stone-like position against the concrete wall and is now standing next to you, kind blue eyes sparkling, looking down at you with all the love he has kept locked up in that insufferable big heart of his for so long. You cringe at the memory of all the suffering he’s been through, all the hurt you’ve put him through.

“I was thinking that maybe we could make another?,” he laughs smartly, trying his best to light up the grim mood that has invaded the souls of the Avengers this evening.

You huff at his cockiness, averting your watering eyes from his, quickly braiding your hair before tucking it in your hoodie. When you’ve recovered enough, you slightly pull back the hood that hides a small smile from everyone’s line of sight but his.

“Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Captain,” you say softly, briefly interlacing your fingers with his and giving his hand a gentle squeeze before pulling away. But he doesn’t let go of you just yet. Steve takes a step forward while you take a step back, afraid this rare moment of intimacy will be spoilt by your poisonous powers. He quickly picks up on your discomfort and reluctantly lets go of your hand, shoving them in the pockets of his jeans.

“I’ll always be there for you, waiting till you’re ready. Ready to love me again,” he whispers whilst releasing a deep sigh, sapphire eyes downcast. An unreadable expression overshadows his handsome face, his gaze moving back and forth between you and Bucky before whispering “I guess the heart wants what it wants” so quietly it’s only audible to your ears.

“The future that we hold is unclear and I know it might seem like the odds are entirely against us, but I want our child to grow up with both a mommy and a daddy. I want this to work, Steve,” you add with a sincere smile, cupping his cheek whilst your fingertips catch a stray tear rolling down from the corner of his eye. “A little wind in our sails won’t knock us down.”

***

THE PRESENT

“What about Bucky? He loves you just as much as Steve does.”

“It’s the kind of love that only breaks your heart. But it will be a privilege to have my heart broken by James Buchanan Barnes. I appreciate your concern, Wanda, but I know what I’m doing.”

The redheaded witch looks down on her watch before telling you it’s almost time to get going, your presence is expected at the tower and you can’t keep the director waiting. After Steve walked in on you and Bucky in the privacy of your bedroom, the fear of another altercation had caused quite a riot between the Avengers, so much that Fury decided to step in and handle the situation personally. Meanwhile, both super soldiers were given strict instructions not to contact you in any way possible and more importantly, to stay away from one another for the time being. Their little time-out worked its magic, because one week later they both accompanied you to your next appointment with doctor Cho.

But you really owe it all to Wanda, she’s been your mediator in this game of hearts, keeping the peace amongst the Avengers while simultaneously looking out for you and your unborn child.

“Sam’s not all that pleased to see you in a polyamorous relationship. His words, not mine,” Wanda defends when you shoot her a dirty glare. “You’ve neglected to return any of his calls. So tell me, are you avoiding your best friend, Y/N?”

Not returning any of Sam’s phone calls is not the only thing you’re guilty of, having abandoned the idea of going to work ever since you found out you are with child. At this point, you couldn’t care less about negotiating terms of surrender if you can’t even restore the order in your personal life.

“I’m sorry, Wanda. But he’s been pushing me to make amends with Steve and I – I can’t… I can’t face him yet! Sam’s constantly telling me to make up my mind and finally make the cut so you can save yourself the effort, too. “

She places her hand on top of yours as she gives you a sympathetic smile, encouraging you to go on. “You’ve kept it all bottled up for too long, darling,” Wanda whispers tenderly, her compassionate eyes never leaving yours.

“I love him, Wanda! I never stopped loving Steve because he is the love of my life, he’s everything I’ve ever wanted and so much more. But I destroyed us! Minerva wrecked us by corrupting me. He has to move on like I have, with Bucky. I’ve told Bucky things I could never tell to Steve and maybe he isn’t the kind of man I envisioned myself living out the rest of my days with, but I’ve fallen in love with him nonetheless. I fell in love with Bucky at a time in my life I thought I never would be able to do so ever again. He has given me hope, he has helped me find myself again amidst the darkness that I encompass. Steve has to accept that we can never be together anymore. He is my first love, but clearly not my last love.”

Wanda’s eyes study your facial features very carefully and you sense a sinking feeling drag you down into your personal bottomless pit of despair, vomit working its way up your throat. Fortunately Wanda is always there to hold back your hair, so when you rush your way to the toilet to part with both your nerves and the inevitable effects of your pregnancy, she holds you close to her as you spill your guts down the drain.

“Fuck, I hate this part so much. I should be done with it by now but apparently not because this is such a freaking special pregnancy that I can’t even enjoy it properly.” You spit one last time before cleaning yourself up by the bathroom sink as Wanda shakes her head in disbelief.

“Y/N, darling, your child is going to a beacon of hope to America and it’ll come with few perks and great threat. You know that, so get over it.”

You sigh heavily, locking eyes with your friend through the mirror. Her gorgeous locks are all messed up by the vile winter wind and her eyes are red-rimmed and laced with unmistakable fatigue, her slim body exhausted and unable to shake off the demons of insomnia. Wanda grimaces when she catches you staring, looping her arm through yours and guiding you back to the living room couch.

“Sam’s on your side. He talked to Steve about Bucky and he spoke to Bucky about Steve. They both know you need Bucky to get through this ghastly situation. And they both realise you can’t raise a child on your own, at least not without Steve by your side as well.”

“Why did I have to fall in love with two best friends? We harm ourselves when we harm others, so why do we do it?”

She shoots you a desolate grin before answering honestly. “Because we can’t always get what we want and it only makes us feel more alone. We try to fight the loneliness but it never really goes away.”

***

THE PAST

“She’s definitely enhanced, the first of her kind to survive the chief’s experiments,” murmurs a low voice, possibly male. “This serum will allow her to access the Winter Soldier. Her influence is subtle yet permanent, her power seeping through every single vein with the utmost force. And it does so entirely undetected. Inject her, you will see the results in a couple hours from now.”

“When the Captain is gone, nothing or no-one will stand in our way to take what we want. America will be so consumed in its grief and self-pity, mourning the loss of their golden son that they won’t even notice our shadows moving behind the scenes.” Definitely female. I keep my eyes shut to avoid raising any suspicion. They can’t know I’m already awake and have been for the better part of their hushed conversation.

“Will it be powerful enough to erase her memory?,” the male voice inquires, followed by a huffed laugh of the woman standing close to him.

“Do I sense a shred of doubt?”

“Please, I would never doubt your abilities. I’ve known you for most of my life, котенок.” (Kitten.)

They carried me to the woods, heavily sedated and barely conscious. I heard them discussing their next move and listened very carefully but I couldn’t make out any of the Russian words, my knowledge of any foreign language besides English albeit negligible and my body still considerably numb and under the influence of whatever it was they inoculated me with.

“This should do the trick. Do it, сержант.” (Sergeant.)

Her emotionless words are followed by the slight puncture of a needle and then nothing.

I wake up in the middle of nowhere, my arms and wrists strapped to a chair. In an attempt to wriggle myself free, I plummet face-down on the muddy earth. Dust bites at my bare legs and I feel the sore sting of gravel digging into the exposed skin of my knees and thighs. Baffled by this sensation, I look down to see I’m still wearing my jeans shorts and white tank top. No shoes though but then again I wasn’t wearing any when the unknown woman made her appearance earlier that night.

“Fuck,” I shout in frustration when I can’t seem to move my hands free from the knot tying them to my back. Trying to scramble back on my feet, a glistening presence catches my eye. A pocket knife, Bucky’s pocket knife. My mind, still a little subdued in the aftermath of the injection, had almost forgotten about it but there it is, shimmering in the pale light of the full moon. I jiggle and I twist and turn to try and reach it, releasing a heavy sigh when I finally feel the cold material make contact with the grubby tips of my itching fingers. From then on it’s a piece of cake, cutting the straps and freeing myself from the ropes and its iron grip.

“Well done, дорогой.” (Darling.)

I freeze as a strong hand captures my neck in a chokehold, calloused fingers pressing hard to make sure it leaves a visible mark that’ll last for days if not weeks, an unfamiliar voice whispering words of praise in my ear.

“Вы прошли тест.” (You passed the test.)

Unable to conjure a good comeback, the air being ripped from your throat as the cold blade of the pocket knife lingers dangerously close to your abdomen, the soldier having extracted it from you when he attacked from behind. He’s ready to strike and deliver the final blow, your first instinct commanding your muscles to give him a good and firm kick in the groin with all the power you can muster.

It takes him by surprise which gives you enough leeway to break free and tackle him to the floor. You pin his hands above his head and straddle his waist, pushing him down with the full weight of your body just like Steve taught you during training. And praise the lord for Nat’s tips and tricks and for your powerful thighs.

“Кто ты? Что я здесь делаю?” (Who are you? What am I doing here?)

Your Russian might be next to nothing, you still recall a thing or two from the crash course Bucky has given you a little while back. Who knew it might come in handy on such short notice.

He lets out a huffed laugh, exposing his perfectly whitened teeth.

“Я Vladimir. Я работаю для Минервы. Вы ее, эмпатом. Я слышал много хороших вещей о вас” (I’m Vladimir. I work for Minerva. You are her, the empath. I’ve heard many good things about you.)

You push down your knee a little harder until you can feel his ribs give way under you, so you push some more until they snap under the pressure. His screams are loud enough to pierce your eardrums and scare all the animals in the woods.

“шлюха!” (Whore!)

Whatever substance the syringe carried, it not only heightened your senses but gave your physical strength a serious boost as well, definitely enough to keep the upper hand.

“Дайте мне хотя бы одну причину, чтобы не убить вас.” (Give me one good reason not to kill you.)

When he fails to give you an immediate reply, you skim the outlines of his sculpted jaw with your knife. He had dropped it to the floor and you eagerly picked it up while he was recovering from your calculated blow to his precious manhood. Unafraid of your threatening ministrations, you make a deep cut from right underneath his eye along the length of his cheek, instantly drawing a steady flood of thick, red blood. He bites down hard on his bottom lip to avoid a strangled cry to escape his lips. He’s a tough one, you must give him that.

“Я не буду спрашивать вас снова.?” (I’m not going to ask you again.)

A smug smile creeps up on your lips as he squirms underneath you, eyes wide when you give his other cheek the same courtesy. You apply just enough pressure to his sternum to knock the wind out of his lungs as he finally gives in to the pain building in his chest.

“Вы сука! У меня есть информация!” (You bitch! I have information!)

“Говорить.” (Talk.) Your voice is low and deep, almost resembling the growl of a wild animal on a hunting party. “In English, if you please,” you add with a smirk.

“It doesn’t matter, the serum will kick in soon enough and you won’t even remember this ever happened. It’s quite something, what they’ve concocted especially for you. The killer serum I believe it’s called. It has no unfortunate side effects apart from the memory loss, although I hardly call that unfortunate.”

“What do they want from me? Apart from killing the captain? What do they want with sergeant Barnes?”

“Killing Captain America is only a part of the plan. They are ten steps ahead of you, girl, and there’s no way out of this. Unless dead. You seem like a smart lass, so I reckon you won’t have any trouble grasping the concept.”

“сократить дерьма, ты монстр.” (Cut the crap, you’re a monster.)

“No, you’re mistaken, the only monster here is you, Y/N. You were recruited for the highest of purposes, the assassination of Captain America and the revival of the Winter Soldier. I know my colleague told you to stay away from him, but that’s just one big cock-and-bull story to throw you off our scent. You see, your feelings for the sergeant aren’t 100% genuine either. We want you close to him, we want you to take precautionary measures as soon as your child is born. Do you know what you’re having yet? If it’s a girl, she might be a powerful dark empath just like you. But if it’s a boy, maybe he’ll inherit some of that super soldier strength from his daddy and he’ll soon follow in sergeant Barnes’ footsteps as the first Fist of Minerva. Sounds like a good idea to me, what do you think?”

“You are despicable, all of you!,” you cry out, jabbing him in an attempt to get rid of some of the anger boiling in the pit of your stomach. He doesn’t even flinch, just stares straight through you, the light slowly fading behind his dark grey eyes.

“The best part is, doll, that we don’t even need trigger words anymore,” he snarls at you, the pleasure he takes in unravelling their plans to you only spurring on your rage even further. “After you’ve fulfilled you duties to Minerva, to us, we will redesign you entirely, so your powers do not only apply to the super soldiers anymore. You will be able to turn everyone over to the dark side, darling. You will bring out the worst in any person of our choosing and you will have no control over it.”

“I do have control!,” you retort almost instantly, tears burning your eyes.

“Only because we taught you how to control your abilities. We can just as easily take it away from you. Feeling dizzy yet, little girl?”

You plunge the knife just underneath his heart, twisting it to make sure he doesn’t survive, watching as his self-satisfied smirk slowly dies away into a lifeless expression. Taking his life leaves a sour taste in your mouth, the metal tang of blood invading your senses as your nose starts bleeding and your ears start to pound. The serum, the serum has started working.

“I have to reach Steve, Bucky, anyone!,” you scream, panic coursing through your veins as you frantically start to fumble with the dead soldier’s uniform, struggling to find any kind of device you can use to get through to your friends. Your search is in vain because you come up empty handed, nothing but a pair of broken earplugs in the palm of your hand.

“Shit. Shit, I’m going to pass out.”

And then it all goes dark again.


	9. Love is a weapon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time for the grand finale.

“Listen up,” Nat urges, standing on my right with an imperative aura only she can pull off, Baby Milo Grant Rogers in her arms and clearly in a fitful sleep, drooling the tiniest bit on her all-black attire. “This is how it’s about to go down.”

She nods in my direction, encouraging me to take the lead. I clear my throat and pray to God my voice won’t start quivering. “Steve and Wanda will head out first with the fake baby. Wanda will pose as me and they’ll be our decoy. Minerva expects us to flee the country, so they’ll be keeping an eye out at the Canadian border for sure. They’ll have men scanning the area for anyone that even looks vaguely familiar or takes after Steve and myself. They’ll have received strict orders. It’ll be shoot to kill and the first one on their list is Steve.”

You pause to assess the expressions of everyone in the room. Steve doesn’t even look the tiniest bit surprised and his eyes tell you to continue. “Next up is Sam and Nat, they’ll take Milo to the safe house. Tony has arranged for transport and it’ll be quick, clandestine and there will be no transcripts whatsoever. It’ll be untraceable, off the record, under the table.” You make sure to stress each word individually, catching Tony’s eye and he nods in confirmation. You have complete faith in his skills, that man knows his shit and it’ll take you one step closer to getting out safe and sound.

“Which leaves Bucky and myself. We’re going to get ourselves caught. I want to deal with those sick bastards personally, give them a taste of their own medicine, make them acquainted with their handiwork. I’m going to make sure they suffer. We’re going to bring Minerva down.”

And that’s all they needed to know for now, everybody but Wanda had been kept in the dark. I wanted my girl to be safe, just as much as I wanted her brother to be safe as well. I knew for sure I wasn’t going to make it out of this alive, and I needed my child to be safe. I needed Steve and Bucky to be safe. And Wanda was going to take care of a couple more details for me.

“We’re moving out in ten,” Steve announces before turning his attention to me. “Walk with me,” he simply says, his eyes betraying not a single emotion. He offers me his arm but I decline politely. We can’t go far so we settle for a short walk around the block.

“What is it you want to talk about?,” I ask matter-of-factly although my hands are shaking and my voice is a little unsteady. We’ve just rounded the corner after a minute of sealed lips and obstinate silence.

“If we make it to Canada,” Steve starts but I interrupt him immediately with a firm “When. When we make it to Canada, Steve.”

He does not reply for a while, just stares intensely at me with those stormy blues, a stern yet tender stare and they tell me the blond is lost in his thoughts. Then he regains his composure and it’s as if no time at all has passed, the familiarity of his words cutting through me like a knife through butter. “I love you, Y/N.”

He slowly closes the distance between us until he’s mere inches away from me. “The serum Tony and Bruce gave me is starting to kick in,” I deflect, looking everywhere but at him because I’m afraid that once our eyes meet, I might be a goner once more. “It’ll suppress my powers, at least for the time being. It should give us some time to breathe as well, get our feelings sorted out.” There’s a tinge of hope lacing my words, something I haven’t felt in quite some time, although it’s a fragile little being. My heart is made of porcelain and we all know porcelain breaks easily, especially when stepped upon by an elephant and there’s definitely an elephant in the room. So maybe it’s time to address it instead of beating about the bush and cross our fingers for a belated Christmas miracle.

“That is, if you still want to figure things out.” I shuffle from one foot to another before a gentle finger lifts up my chin and we lock eyes. They’re caring, loving and understanding yet there’s also a hardness to them I haven’t encountered before, an edge that scares me like nothing else. I can’t lose him but I can’t have him either, and he knows it too.

“I love you. That’s the end of the matter,” he states in his Captain voice, dismissing any argument that might come to mind. It’s of no use anyway, his mind is made up and so is mine. Steve wraps his arms around me and I rest my head in the space between his neck and shoulder, releasing the breath I’ve been holding. Giving him one last peck on the tip of his nose, I detangle myself from his comfortable embrace and make my way back to the others.

I’m going to miss my boys so much, so very, very much.

***

It was dark when you and Bucky arrived at the car park and it gave you an eerie feeling, seeing them waiting for you, ten men and women carrying all kinds of heavy weaponry. You recognised all of them from your time with Minerva, however involuntary, although there’s one person in particular, wearing dark shades to shield his eyes from the outside world, that catches your eye instantly.

You lean in closer to Bucky, whispering a silent “Let me do the talking” and he glances sideways, nodding his head in approval.

“Welcome. Long-time no see, Y/N.”

I would recognise his voice anywhere, the showman, which leads to question if one of his so-called goons might be the puppeteer. I know for sure he or she would want to be there when they apprehend the infamous Winter Soldier, not to mention his or her own creation.

Me.

“Congratulations, you found us. Now let’s get straight to it, please. I ain’t here to chit-chat with you about the weather,” you reply bluntly, eyes set in unwavering determination. He will try to get under your skin but you won’t let him. “You haven’t seen the worst of me yet and I don’t plan on showing you.”

He chuckles darkly, removing his sunglasses to look me dead in the eye as he takes in my appearance from head to toe, a small smile playing on his lips as he notices the faint black glow of my left hand. I clench my fists, hoping to contain the rush of darkness until it was absolutely necessary.

“You think I’m going to let you go? Just like that?”

“I don’t think so, I know so. You are no match for us.”

“You remember, don’t you?”

This catches you off guard, his inquiry after your recollection of your past encounter with Minerva in the woods is unexpected, the cruelty of the soldier’s words still reverberating in the pit of your stomach, the soldier you killed mercilessly. You weren’t supposed to remember but you do, you remember. Every single detail. Although you filled the team in on some of it, your heart couldn’t bear to tell Bucky that none of it might’ve been real.

Fabricated.

Manipulated.

Betrayed, you feel betrayed by your own feelings. “I remember,” you reply casually, hiding the inner turmoil consuming you under a well-practised poker face.

“What is he talking about?,” Bucky hisses into your ear, shoulders set with tension and his jaw clenched tight. Everything about his body language just screams Winter Soldier, the way his eyes stare into the distance with a calculated wrath, as if he’s about ready to rip the man’s head off with his bare hands and go for an ice-cream afterwards.

“She didn’t tell you, didn’t she?,” the man answers in your place, fishing a gun from his pocket and aiming it at your chest. His finger is on the trigger and you know for a fact that he won’t hesitate to kill you, despite your detrimental value to their cause. “She didn’t tell you that our true objective was never the Captain, but we needed you to gain his trust first. He was our way in. Although we’ve enjoyed our little manhunt, I’m afraid it has to end here. You’ve proven to be quite the worthy opponent, even though designing you was a piece of cake. No, the grand prize is,”

“Me,” Bucky whispers distantly, finishing his sentence with obvious dismay. He turned to you, wide-eyed and worry etched onto his beautiful features. “It’s me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was just trying to protect you Bucky,” you offered weakly, your voice barely cutting through the nerves.

“And now we’ve got both of you. Lucky me,” the showman giggles before cocking back his gun.

I don’t know when it all went to shit but there’s no going back now. I didn’t hear back from Sam or Nat before we got cornered by Minerva at the parking lot, which probably is a good thing since I told them not to contact me in any case whatsoever unless it was absolutely necessary. The cabin in the woods is secluded, no one will be able to track them down.

So far so good.

Well, if you can call being resuscitated by Bucky good.

“Don’t you dare die on my watch, doll,” he calls out and you’re startled to see the anguish starting to take over his features. Fear is written all over his face and even his eyes are penetrated by this frightening emotion. You slowly raise your head to look at him, feeling weak and frantic.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I reply softly but know that what I’m saying feels more like a petty white lie than the honest truth. Bucky doesn’t respond and for a moment I believe I am strong enough to push past the pain overpowering my limbs. Then he speaks up again and I’m desperately trying to hold back the tears, pushing away his hand as he tries to wipe them away.

“Doll, you’re burning up,” he insists as he places his hand on my forehead, quickly retracting it before I can shove it away again. Soft whimpers fall from my lips and it sounds almost like a chant of extreme anxiety if it wasn’t for the headache boring holes in my skull.

“You have to… Bucky,” I try to say but words fail me, my voice muffled and heat radiating off my skin, it feels like I’m about to catch fire any minute now. I can’t finish my sentence anymore, my tongue suddenly feels so thick and any movement it tries to make is lost on me.

“Y/N, please,” Bucky’s sobs are quiet yet uncharacteristically deep, undoubtedly coming from his heart.

“I’m dying, Bucky.” There’s no other explanation for what you’re going through right now. Most of your body feels out of place, out of touch or even out of reach if you’re right about this. The pain blinds you, it’s everywhere and yet nowhere, most of your limbs turning more numb by the second.

“No, you’re not,” he argues but his pained expression tells you otherwise. You could almost smell it on him, the distress settling deep into his bones as well as yours.

“Goodbye my love,” you croak out with every ounce of power still residing within you, your final words expressing everything there’s left to say yet convey nothing but sadness now they’ve finally been spoken. “Tell Steve I’m sorry.”


	10. Love is a choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is finally out there. Has Y/N survived?

Beep beep beep

The door propped open, a faint beeping can be heard in the distance, resonating against the pristine white hospital walls. The machine’s monotone sound is like music to his ears. It means you’re still alive, you’re still here with him although you can’t hear him and maybe not even feel him as well. There are oxygen tubs applied at your nose and wires glued to your chest, coming up through the neck of your hospital gown. The bedside table holds a few get well cards and several bouquets of your favourite flowers, at least a dozen orchids decorating your room, all from various team members.

Beep beep beep

“Wanda also told me about Mia, she told me what you asked her to do.” Steve sits down on the chair on the left of your hospital bed, clasping your hand in his, squeezing it gently to let you know he’s here for you, waiting for you to wake up. Your skin is pale, almost transparent and so vulnerable even Steve is afraid to touch you. “She couldn’t go through with it, she couldn’t give your little girl, our little girl up for adoption.”  
Beep beep beep

“I understand why you thought it was the right thing to do.” Steve places a butterfly kiss to the palm of your hand, sighing against your tender skin. “I know, Y/N, I have seen it with my own eyes. Mia is just like her mother, she has your powers.”

The doctors told him the bullet merely grazed your heart but that it had been a careful aim, made to do a lot of irreplaceable damage if not operated on quickly. The showman shot you point-blank as they tried to overpower Bucky. He fought them off with all his might, trying to reach you and get you to safety. You were lucky Bucky reacted on time, it might’ve just saved your life.

“She has you, she has me, she has us to teach her how to control it, how to hide it, how to use her ability to do good, not bad.”

Beep beep beep

Bucky’s sitting at your other side, his hands cupping yours and his breath tickling the tender skin as he gives the palm of your hand a soft peck. There are bags underneath his red-rimmed eyes and he’s been getting as little sleep as Steve has these past couple of days.

“Bucky and I, we guard your bed day and night. I couldn’t convince him to get some sleep but you should see him Y/N, he looks like a wreck. You almost look as horrible as he does.” Steve chuckles as Bucky sends him a nasty glare, both men holding on to your hand a little tighter.

Beep beep beep

But if it hadn’t been for Tony Stark tailing your car ever since you left the apartment, Bucky wouldn’t be here as well. He intervened as soon as he saw things were going south, his suit holding most assailants at bay as Bucky tried to extract you alongside the cavalry Coulson sent in as soon as your tracker stopped giving off a solid signal, having been destroyed as the bullet pierced your tactical gear.

“The doctor says there’s nothing else they can do for you, that it’s all up to you now,” Steve cries softly, pressing his face into the sheets.

Beep beep beep

It was all a hoax, Minerva and the program Nox, all of it was a rouse concocted by Hydra to return to their former glory and in order to do so, they needed their Soldat back. You were just a means to an end, it’s only unfortunate that so many other people got caught in the crossfire as well.

“We got them all, Y/N. Natasha is guiding the interrogations as we speak.” Steve’s voice is weak and the sheets are stained by his muffled sobs.

Beep beep beep

He takes a deep breath in then slowly out, looking down at your intertwined hands. “You have to pull through, Y/N, I can’t raise two kids without you. I can’t do this alone. Please, Y/N, please,” Steve begs as silent tears litter the sheets once again, mercilessly cascading down his cheeks like a waterfall.

“I love you, Bucky loves you, we all love you so much. Please come back to us. If not for me, then do it for our kids, do it for Milo and for Mia,” he says quietly, followed by an equally silent whisper, “Do it for us.”

***

Epilogue

My name is Y/N and a couple years ago I was married to Captain America himself, Steve Rogers. Long story short, I was madly in love until my past came back to haunt me. I got a divorce and moved in with my new boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. Things were fine for a while until they weren’t fine anymore. I got pregnant and gave birth to twins, a boy Milo and a girl Mia.

Captured by a secret organisation named Minerva, a shell corporation set up by Hydra to gain power again, I was used for my ability to unlock and enhance the most dangerous side of human nature with my empathic powers. They moulded me into their weapon, they made me a whole other person. I lost my identity because of them and I almost lost the two most important people in my life as well.

But despite all the hardship we had to endure, we finally made it. I am an Avenger now, my ability allows me to gain insight in the deepest and darkest corners of the human mind, get acquainted with the inner workings of my enemy and their plans. I can use this kind of information against them quite easily, crowning me as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most prized asset. I work alongside Steve and Bucky, trying to clean up the world and get rid of parasites like Minerva, or should I say, Hydra.

I am an Avenger now, but most of all I am a full-time mother. Mia’s six now and her training is going well. She’s got a lot of exercise ahead of her and she’ll come across some tough challenges as well but I’m confident that she’ll pull through. Milo on the other hand is a rascal, a little troublemaker and I don’t have to wonder for long who he got it from. He’s such a scrawny little boy with a mop of tousled blond hair and the resemblance with pre-serum Steve is uncanny but he’s just so adorable.

Mia is a bit more introverted than her brother but she can definitely speak up for herself when needed. She’s a chubby girl, much like her mother when I was her age, with long blonde hair that falls in luxurious waves down her back. Both of them share my eye colour and unfortunately my bad eye sight as well. Steve doesn’t seem to mind, he’s just glad that we’re all together still.

Every time I look at them, I see a piece of myself, of the girl I used to be, reflected in them. I’m proud of my kids and I’m proud of my little family.

When I first woke up from my coma, I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone touching me ever again. Slowly but surely and with a little help from my friends and fellow teammates, I learnt how to feel normal again, how to get in touch with reality again.

If there’s one perk of dying, it’s that it wore down the effects of the control Minerva/Hydra had over me. They designed me in a way that I was slowly poisoning Steve, our marriage and myself. Nowadays the darkness rarely resurfaces again when I’m around Steve and when it does we both call for a time-out. Steve usually goes to the common room to spend some time with the other team members while I join my children in their room and snuggle up to them. They aren’t old enough to fully understand the true nature of these occurrences, they just know that mommy sometimes needs a hug to feel better again. Although I’m fairly sure Mia has her suspicions, she’s a smart little girl and given we both share the same secret, she understands me better than anyone else does.

Steve is a wonderful father and he loves his children so very much. We have an entire floor to ourselves, courtesy of Tony Stark of course. Although Steve and I don’t share the same room, I’m not ready to take that step, we have made an arrangement we both feel comfortable with. After we conclude our little breaks, he usually comes to my room afterwards or I come to his and we fall asleep in each other’s arms, his steady heartbeat the only thing that’s able to coax me to sleep.

However that does mean that occasionally some questions arise, like last night when Milo asked me why mommy and daddy don’t hold hands or kiss each other on the lips like other parents do. I try to explain to him that his parents love each other very much but that it’s just a different kind of love. It might not be the same passionate love than before, this is a love that runs much deeper and will survive for much longer.

Sometimes Mia inquires after what’s going on between Bucky and me, why I call Sam my best friend and not Bucky. I tell her that Bucky is mommy’s closest friend because sometimes he understands mommy better than Sam does. She always just nods before she’s off playing with her brother and their countless toys again (we’ve got Tony to thank for that, he spoils them rotten), although she always looks back to make sure mommy is okay.

Bucky loves those kids just as much as Steve does and he regularly takes them out on field trips. Milo and Mia think of him as their second father and I couldn’t be happier. Bucky has played a significant role in my life and I want him there even though we are not together anymore. We’ve had a long, good talk about where to go from here and we both agreed that it was for the best if we started over again. So we stitch each other up and soothe each other after a particular rough mission, give each other a shoulder to lean on and take care of the little ones like any other loving parent would.

If it’s meant to be then it will grow again, like flowers in the garden after a particularly cold winter will blossom again in the spring.

Love is a choice and I made mine. I chose to love myself first.


End file.
